My curly locks of love are tied up in a bun at the top of my head, making me feel like a dainty ballerina (I wanted to be one so badly when I was a little girl, even though I moved like a pregnant duck). My eyelids are begging for sleep (or are simply lazy, I can never tell); I feel lightheaded (and I promise I'm not drunk...on alcohol. Only drunk on the Spirit of Life). And as I'm typing this, my body is becoming more and more loose and relaxed. But I am fighting the urge. It is taking everything that I have to keep sitting here and typing, despite not really having much to say at all.
These past several days have been some of the brightest I have had all year, so much has happened to me spiritually. I probably should have sat down to write then, but I was so full of energy, inspiration, and joy that I couldn't handle sitting down long enough to do it. I was busy dreaming alongside God.
Now I'm here, typing. ARGHHHHGFGKAKGJFDLJSFSJFJFSKFJSDKFJKDFKJFDKFJSD.
Okay, now on to the meat and potatoes (in honor of Thanksgiving).
Maybe writing by hand would be better, actually it would be, it would be awesome. I love when I write by hand because it always turns out so much more coherent, elegant, and eloquent. Typing is faster, so that's why I'm doing it this way tonight, but handwriting is amazeballsome. Is it weird that I love to watch myself write? I love to watch my hand move across the paper, my thoughts traveling through my blood, through my fingertips, out of the pen, in ink, forever merged with the paper, producing children in the form of ideas (awkward, yet lovable children).
Anyways, the reason I'm willing my stiff fingers to punch at the keys in the keyboard in order to get these words across the blank page of cyberspace is because I need to write everyday. I'm so out of shape (in more ways than one). God has given me a new dream, and I need to train. I've already started training my body, my mind, my soul, and my heart; now I need to begin training my words (both written and verbal) and my actions. I'm getting there. I don't want to waste this beautiful chance that I'm being given.
In here, I don't want to get into the spiritual aspects of my life just yet, I don't feel ready. There's so much to explain and talk about, to explore and discover, to illuminate. Believe me when I say that this post is merely a scratch on the magnificent and enormous iceberg/mountain/universe that is my relationship with God. My spirituality is a treasure and is immense, therefore I cannot even begin to imagine how I will ever be able to find the words to make others understand the fire that is both transforming me and permanent within me forever.
I suppose all I can say right now is that I have just been through a decade of desolation, but I prefer to call that time in my life: The Decade in the Desert.
How can I make all of you feel what I feel, or more importantly, how will I ever be able to relate my relationship with God? Where are the words to explain my soul's adventures? Oh, if I could only summon words and make them dance and sing for me, if I could only make them obey at my command, if I could be the master of language and be capable of painting with these tiny black and white symbols that decipher my mind to all of creation, I should be so joyous and honored.
With hope against hope in God, which is all that I have right now, I pray that the words will come, and that writing here everyday or at least often will sow the seed for a future harvest of a newfound mastery of language. I need it so badly. Never have I needed so badly to be able to communicate and convey what I have to say.
I hope anyone reading this can feel my anxiety and nervousness. You don't understand, but there is so much riding on my ability to write. And not just write, that's actually not what's important. Being able to MOVE the reader is what I'm aiming for. Being able to take the nuggets of treasure that are lodged and protected deep in my heart, mind, and soul, and bestow them like a kiss upon the foreheads of readers, forever changing the course of their destinies. I didn't realize it until just now, how much I need to be able to write. How much everything is going to depend on that.
This is a test, a new test, one I have yet to be tried through. I have to trust God, and I have to trust Him when He says that I can do it, that He's sown the seed of greatness within me since before I was formed in the womb, and that now is the time to begin to sprout roots and aim for the surface of the soil. My time of being nestled in the quiet, warm, darkness of the earth is coming to an end, and He is telling me the time to grow is here. Growth will not come easy; simply the effort of pushing roots out and having them traverse the soil will be difficult enough, but then the time will come when I will have to find my way towards the surface, breach the crust of the earth, and hail the sun. Or more like, The Son. I'm so nervous, I could cry. I thought my life was somewhat on the way already, I mean, I have had 24 years (soon to be 25, but don't tell anybody, narks) behind my belt, and now God is saying, "Viridiana, that was all just groundwork." GROUNDWORK.
The excitement was incredible; hope immediately took hold. But now that the first tide has come and gone, and the sense of adventure has given way to the truth of the matter, which is that an adventure requires plunging blindly into the fray of life without a map, I can only feel a bit anxious and fearful. Stamping out the doubts and fears that are cropping up now that God's Kiss of Hope has lost it's moisture and has dried upon my forehead is all I can do to keep myself going forward. Frankly, if I don't grow, I'll die. I will never have sprouted my little tender roots, and more so no one will ever see the blooms I will produce. Heck, even I won't get to see them. God is good at keeping the best things in life secret, so even I do not have a single clue as to what is coming, what I am capable of, how far He wants to take me, or what my blooms will be like when the time finally comes. All I have is a prayer: "God, may Your dream for me come true." Wish me luck, dear invisible friends.
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